Prom Night
by Nancy T
Summary: To snare a dangerous hacker, the Scorpion team holds a prom for people who weren't "prom types" in high school - which of course includes all of them. Based on a wonderful plot bunny by ElizaPliza.
1. Chapter 1

_(Author's note: Grateful thanks to the incredibly helpful Captain Kirk E. Lane of the Mission, Kansas Police Department; Jeff Lanza of The Lanza Group, who told me what federal charges would be brought against the bad guy; and to ElizaPliza, for a GREAT plot bunny! Hope you like this, EP!)_

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The Santa Ana winds were shuddering against cars at street level in downtown Los Angeles; ten stories higher the gale roared and whistled, pulling at the flannel robe of the man who stood clutching a railing, staring at the street below.

The door to the enclosed stairwell opened, then the wind sucked it open sharply. The motion caught the eye of the man staring into the street. A man of about fifty in a dark business suit forced the door closed, and as he did, the man in the robe edged away, holding the railing as he went.

The man in the suit seemed to find nothing strange in the other man's garb or demeanor. He walked toward the robed man slowly, his expression unreadable, his hands open and slightly away from his sides. When he was a few yards away he said, "Judge Morse?" and his voice carried, even against the wind.

The judge shot a glance at the man in the suit, shook his head. "Leave me alone."

"I just want to talk. I'm not going to do anything dramatic. Not my style."

The judge stole another look. "Who are you? Police?"

"No, your honor. My name's Cabe Gallo, and I'm with Homeland Security."

For a moment the judge just kept staring downward. Cabe had actually opened his mouth to say something else when the judge lifted his head, as though he'd just now heard the words. "Homeland Security? Is investigating judicial misconduct?"

"No, sir. We're investigating the case of a hacker who's been trying to destroy prominent men in the federal government."

The judge heard that right away. He looked at Cabe with something close to hope, though he didn't let go of the railing. "You mean – You know – "

"We know you didn't send those text messages to female defendants. We know you haven't been trying to extort sexual favors from anyone."

Judge Morse caught his breath; it sounded like a sob. "Are you lying? To, to talk me down?"

"No, sir. You can see my badge if you want. This guy is good. I work with a special team, they're technological prodigies, and even they could only prove that the texts didn't come from you. They haven't been able to track him down yet. But we know you didn't do it."

The judge sighed raggedly, looked down into the street. "I did have an affair, though."

Cabe watched him silently.

"I swore, I swore to my wife that I wasn't. Then suddenly our emails are all over the internet. My life, my – life is a joke, public – and Carolyn was so humiliated. And then those women started saying – "

"For what it's worth, they were taken in, Judge. They really thought you were contacting them."

"I swore I wasn't doing that either, and of course Carolyn didn't believe me. No one did. No one. I couldn't – I was one of the youngest federal district court judges ever appointed. So proud of that. And I've ruined my own credibility. My marriage is over. And my career – "

"You have committed no criminal action." Even with his voice raised against the wind, Cabe sounded firm. "We know that. And as for your marriage, I think you should talk to your wife about that. She's on her way over here now."

"Carolyn?"

"I came over here to tell you that we know about the frame-up. I found the door open and saw your note. We know the number of the hotel where Carolyn is staying, so I called her. She told me where you keep your gun and where your car's parked. And she said there was easy roof access. She was very concerned."

Morse, staring at Cabe, gave a muffled sob. He took one hand off the railing to press it against his eyes. A violent gust whirled a piece of black plastic sheeting from somewhere in a circle around the roof and then far away.

"I couldn't sleep last night. The wind blew all night long."

"It does bad things to people's nerves," Cabe said.

Morse turned away from the railing, letting go finally. Without seeming to rush, Cabe was nonetheless beside him in a moment. The judge let Cabe put one hand on his arm and lead him toward the stairwell door.

Then he stopped, looking at Cabe with incredulity. "A – hacker? Put my personal emails on the internet? And framed me?"

"Yes, sir."

"Why?"

"We're going to ask him that," Cabe said grimly, "as soon as we find him."

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"I'll unlock the door for you," Walter said into the phone, walking down the stairs at Scorpion headquarters. "We're all here but Paige, and I expect her as soon as she gets Ralph from school. We'll catch her up if she gets here after you."

Unceremoniously, he disconnected the call and then punched the combination of numbers on his phone that unlocked the door. He looked around the lower level of the garage. He had passed Sylvester upstairs, cleaning the kitchen; Toby was sprawled on a couch, earbuds in place, listening to something that apparently amused him; and Happy was typing fast, looking intently at her monitor.

"Cabe's going to be here in a minute or two. Toby!"

Toby looked over and pulled out an earbud.

"Cabe's going to be here in a couple of minutes to give us an update on the case. And I've got one for him." And, as Toby sat up, looking interested, Walter looked over at Happy. "Is that the report on the Shiva Project?"

"No. Toby's doing that."

"You said you would," Toby said.

"No, that was the last case."

"I did the report on the last case," Walter said. "I did the report on the last four cases. Come on, people, we're government contractors. Our employers want reports, which is a reasonable request. Do I need to do them all?"

"You're the boss," Happy offered.

"That's sardonically funny," Walter said wryly. "Remind me to laugh, after Cabe leaves. Without his report."

Sylvester had come down from the kitchen and was opening a drawer in his desk. "I'll do the report, Walter," he said. He held up a small paper-wrapped square. "But this is the very last keyboard-cleaning wipe we have. The last."

"Talk to Paige about it. She's ordering the supplies now."

"Thank Heaven," Sylvester said devoutly.

"Excuse me?" Happy looked up again.

"I mean – " Sylvester began a little nervously. Then he looked at her directly. "You know, maybe we'll be able to count on having supplies besides cables and hardware."

Happy met his gaze; then looked away; then went back to typing, which was her way of admitting he was right.

When Cabe arrived a couple of minutes later, the others were sitting in a circle that included two empty chairs Walter had pulled over. "Update us, then I'll update you," Walter told him.

Cabe dropped into one of the empty chairs. "We've been working this through normal investigative techniques at the office. We've dug into the lives of the first two victims, the one who was framed for ties to terrorist groups and the one framed for embezzlement from the Commerce Department, as well as into the life of Judge Morse. Outside of their being successful white males in their 40s, we're not finding anything significant in common.

"The first victim is on TV sometimes as a spokesman for the Attorney General's office, but the other was a bureaucrat in the Commerce Department – a highly placed bureaucrat, but you wouldn't know who he was unless you went looking for him on the internet. Judges are in the public eye, of course, but Morse hadn't been involved in any high-profile cases. One of the victims is in Sacramento, one in Washington, D.C., and the judge is local. Obviously our suspect doesn't like authority figures, but the only other link we've found between the victims so far is – " his mouth quirked – "flimsy."

"What is it?" Toby asked.

"Their Facebook photos are similar."

Sylvester was closest to his computer, so he spun and his fingers rattled the keys. A moment later, three Facebook pages were cascaded on the screen, and the others came over to look at them. All three pictures were portraits taken by professional photographers, not candid shots; in all three the man stood with his wife on his right, one arm around her and clasping her lightly above the elbow; and all three wives were pretty blondes.

"Interesting," Toby said, resuming his seat.

"But not helpful, except that it reinforces the assumption that our hacker is male," Cabe said dryly. "I'm counting on your cyber work."

"Unfortunately I don't have a lot for you," Walter said. "The guy is really good. I've gone through the coding he used in hacking all three cases, and every time I think I've got something it dead-ends. But this morning I looked again at some code I'd noticed before, because it seemed superfluous. Just a little string. I couldn't figure it out at first, and then I realized I was making it too hard. It was a simple letter substitution code."

"A hacker name?" Happy asked.

Walter nodded. "He didn't use a hacker name or signature in the first two cases, but I guess he's getting really proud of himself."

"What's the name?" Cabe asked.

"Giant Killer."

Cabe raised his eyebrows, but before he could react there was a little choked, surprised sound from Happy.

They all looked at her, but after a moment she shook her head. "Just coincidence."

"But?" Cabe pressed.

"There's a website called nlox," she said. "It was started by hackers, but we talk about different kinds of things. You know, you start talking about who's getting hacked, pretty soon you're talking about whether they deserve it or what purpose is served, after a while you're talking about politics and your own personal experiences. There's a group of us on there, we just wind up meeting on various pages and talking. Or one of us posts something interesting and the rest of us kind of – gather and talk about it."

"And you think one of them might be our guy?" Walter asked.

"He's funny sometimes," Happy said stubbornly, as if someone had already disagreed with her. "I don't see our suspect as having a sense of – and I wouldn't even have noticed if we hadn't been working the case. But he really went off on that Commerce Department embezzler, I mean the one who was framed for embezzling. Said it showed the contempt of the ruling classes for other people's money. And this morning we were talking about the judge's phone being hacked, and he said the hacker probably just exposed what the judge was doing anyway, using his position to extort sex. He said something like, 'All the golden boys have grimy secrets.'"

"What's his user name?" Walter asked.

"Jack Giant Killer."

There was a second's silence.

"Sylvester?" Walter said.

"Hard to say with so many variables," Sylvester said, "but about one hundred thirty to one. Against its being coincidence."

"Good enough for me," Cabe said. "We can find the administrators of nlox, and track him through them."

"Except that if he was confident enough to use most of his user name as his hacker signature, he's probably no easier to trace through nlox than through his hacking." Walter shook his head. "But it's a start."

"We don't have to think digital only," Toby said. "Look, we have a connection to the guy. We can look at his previous posts and engage with him through Happy. We don't have to chase him. We figure out what he wants more than anything, we offer it, and get him to come to us."

"You mean – physically?" Happy said in a startled tone.

"I'm assuming he has corporeal existence and isn't merely an online entity," Toby said blandly.

"He could be anywhere in the world," Cabe objected.

"The fact that two of his victims were in California makes him seem pretty local. And anyway, this guy's capable of hacking the federal government. If we offer him something he wants enough, stealing a plane ticket is not going to be a challenge for him. It's just a question of motivation."

He stood and rolled his chair over to Happy's desk. "Happy, can you log into nlox and show me some of the threads where Jack Giant Killer has posted? If nlox has public profiles that would show his previous posts, that would be ideal. I don't want to make him nervous by hacking his website account."

"Yeah, there are profiles," Happy said, logging on and then standing back.

"Give me a few minutes, everyone," Toby said, leaning forward.

Happy stood behind him, reading over his shoulder. Sylvester began cleaning off his keyboard.

Toby looked up at Happy. "Your user name is 'Vibe Isolator'?"

"A vibration isolator protects a structure from outside shocks. It's valuable protection. Don't get weird on me."

"Oh. _I'm_ not supposed to get weird," he said with a grin, and continued reading.

"Wooa," he said a moment later. "One angry dude."

Walter glanced at his smartphone, walked over to the door and looked out, closed it. "Right there," Happy said to Toby, pointing at something on the screen.

Toby read for a moment. "I don't know exactly how local he is, Cabe, but he is male, and American for sure."

"Well, that's something," Cabe said, rising. "Keep looking."

He walked upstairs to the kitchen, and there was a sound of cupboards opening. Walter checked his email.

"What is it with this guy and high school?" Toby mumbled. "Gotta be in his twenties. No one over thirty is still that bent out of shape about high school."

Cabe looked over the railing of the second floor and said plaintively, "There are eleven mini-bottles of apple juice in the refrigerator and no coffee."

"Bring one of those bottles down here, would you?" Walter said. "And talk to Paige about the coffee. She's ordering the supplies now."

"Thank God," Cabe muttered, and Happy shot a quick glare upward before looking back over Toby's shoulder. Cabe came downstairs and handed a little bottle of apple juice to Walter.

"He likes you, Happy," Toby said. "He doesn't like many people. And he's curious about you."

The door opened and Paige said, "Hi, everyone." Before anyone could respond, Ralph ran over to Walter and said, "Can I read some more about the 3-D printer?"

"Manners," Paige said.

Ralph sighed a little. "Hi Walter how are you?"

Walter shot an amused look at Paige. "I'm fine, Ralph, how are you?"

"I'm fine can I read more about the 3-D printer now?"

"Well, you know what your mom says about homework first."

With the tone of one telling a joke's punchline, Paige said, "Did it in the car coming over here."

"Well, then," Walter indicated a table at the far end of the garage, "have at it."

Ralph ran over happily to the table and scrambled up into a chair, swinging his feet as he pulled a huge open manual in front of him. Walter handed the apple juice to Paige, and she gave him a smile, opening the bottle and putting it in front of Ralph. Sylvester said, "Paige, we need more instrument-cleaning wipes."

"And coffee," Cabe said.

"Got it," Paige said, pulling a little notebook from her purse and making notes with a decidedly low-tech pencil. "Cabe, is there something new on the case?"

"We still haven't been able to trace the hacker," Walter answered before Cabe could say a word. "But I figured out his hacker signature, Giant Killer. Happy connected it to a guy she's been chatting with online. The guy calls himself Jack Giant Killer, and he's shown strong interest in two of the victims' cases."

"Is that enough to make him a real suspect?"

"Sly says it's a hundred thirty to one that he is."

Paige smiled at Sylvester. "Well, those are pretty good odds."

"Toby's reading Jack Giant Killer's posts," Walter continued, "to see if there's a way we can lure him out into the open faster than we can track him in cyberspace. Although frankly I think – "

"It's not authority, Cabe," Toby said, looking over at them. "It's status."

"What's not authority?" Paige asked.

Cabe opened his mouth but Walter beat him to the punch again. "Cabe thinks Giant Killer goes after highly-placed guys because he has problems with authority. And Toby thinks – " He waved at Toby.

"He wants status," Toby said. "It's not so much a question of believing that no one should give orders; he just thinks he should be giving them. The way he writes about the two cases, he clearly thinks that the hacker – which is to say, himself – should be getting the kind of attention Edward Snowden got. He thinks the hacker community doesn't understand the depth of his talent. It all sort of relates back to the high-school obsession. He resents the fact that the popular kids are popular when he's so much more brilliant than they are. He doesn't understand why guys he thinks are dumb get the girls." He looked at the screen and read, "'The world is locked in an eternal prom night, the Boy King standing over the masses with his trophy blonde and fake crown and fake smile, convincing the terminally mediocre that phoniness hath its privileges.'"

"Whoo," Paige said.

"Yeah, he can be kinda bitter," Happy said. "But he can be funnier than hell too."

"This is interesting," Cabe said. "But I need to know how these insights are going to help us catch the guy."

"I'm not sure they will," Walter said. "I think the best thing to do is to continue tracking him, through his hacks and this website."

"Happy could tell him she works at a government installation," Toby said. "She can complain about a fictional powerful jerk and wish a hacker would take him out. Trojan-horse the guy."

"He may want status, but he's not stupid," Happy protested. "If all of a sudden I'm in the government and hating powerful men, he's going to smell a rat."

"I agree," Cabe said. "We have to be very careful with this connection. If he shuts down his nlox account and disappears, it could take us too long to find him again, and next time he might kill somebody."

"We could hold a prom where he could be king," Paige said.

Everyone looked at her.

"I know. I was just brainstorming."

"Actually, I like that idea," Toby said.

"A prom for people who weren't prom types in high school," Sylvester said.

"Nothing to do with government or hacking, nothing to scare him," Cabe said. "Outside the box."

"Outside the box, off the worksheet and into a different program," Happy said. "If he's the only one we invite to this, he's going to figure out that he hasn't seen anything about it anywhere else, and he'll run. If we actually have a – " she said the word as if it were the ultimate in absurdity – "a – dance, how are we going to know who he is? You think he'll just show up saying, 'Hi, I'm Jack Giant Killer, you know, the guy who almost got a Commerce undersecretary thrown in jail, wanna dance?'"

Toby's eyes narrowed a little. "But that's what he wants. He'd love that. To be able to claim a smart pretty girl he wants to impress because he's the guy who outsmarted the government – If we could offer him that, he'd show up."

"And confess to a federal crime?"

"To impress you, sure."

"I've known felons to do dumber things to try to impress a woman," Cabe said.

"Besides, we don't have to make the invitation all about the Giant Killer hacking," Paige said. "You've been talking to him online for a while, haven't you?"

"You make it sound like we're dating. There are a bunch of us who kind of turn up on nlox regularly. We just talk, you know. Vent."

"So – he knows you like talking to him. Toby says he approves of you. Just invite him as one of your friends."

"Wouldn't it be easier for Happy just to say, 'Let's meet'?" Sylvester asked.

There was a moment of silence. Then Cabe shook his head. "Too hazardous. For him. If he's the only one walking up to a table where she's sitting, he's going to realize how obvious he is. If he can just slip into a crowd, he'll feel more secure."

"But that leaves the question of how we identify him," Sylvester said.

"Don't make it about identifying him," Walter said. "Make it about him identifying Happy."

Toby slapped his hands together. "Walter, you're a genius."

"Well – yeah – "

"It's a way he can prove his brilliance. It's a way he can prove his brilliance to _her_. She doesn't act like she's interested in identifying him. She makes it a challenge for him to identify her. He takes the initiative, he comes to her. He can take as many precautions as he wants, so he'll feel secure. But in the end he'll identify himself, and we've got him."

"We're sure that he hasn't already identified you?" Cabe asked Happy.

"We always had top-shelf security here," Happy replied, "and when you started giving us government work we increased that. I don't think he's as interested in me as you think he is, anyway. He probably won't bother with the prom thing at all."

"Well, there are other reasons why he'll attend the prom besides you," Toby said. "But if he doesn't come, no harm done. We have a prom, you tell him he missed out. Maybe some of the other nlox posters come and write about what a great time they had. It'll increase your credibility with him, and then we can try something else."

"Not to be negative," Sylvester said, "but the part about everyone having a great time. How do we make that happen?"

"It's a prom," Toby said in the tone of someone spelling cat. "You have music, and balloons and – the standard prom stuff. I don't know, I missed my prom, got kicked out of school a month before graduation for hacking the principal's computer. Walter, did you – "

"When I was seventeen I was taking classes at MIT and designing website security. It's so long ago, and I was so young, I don't even know if we did the prom thing in Ireland."

"Sylvester?" Toby asked with only a faintly hopeful tone.

Sylvester shook his head. "I wish. When I was a senior I was fourteen, and – well – me – but I swear I'd have gone stag if I could've danced just once with Laura Mayfield. She was so beautiful."

"Cheerleader?" Toby asked dryly.

"Well, yeah, but there was more to her than that. She was involved in so many things, and Homecoming Queen – "

"Probably mean, though," Happy said sympathetically.

"No. She was nice to everyone. Once I was standing in front of English class, trying to give a report, and there were a couple of guys in the back whispering and pointing at me and laughing. Laura turned around and just – looked at them, just gave them a look, and they stopped."

"Well," Cabe began, "even if you didn't feel like you could ask her to be your date – "

"She and the Student Council president had a major thing going."

" – but it sounds like she would've at least danced with you."

"I didn't dare ask. I stayed home and calculated the odds of my ever seeing her again after high school, given different variables."

There was a moment of silence. Sylvester straightened, saying, on a deliberately brighter note, "Happy, I bet you went to your prom."

"It was – I – "

"Couldn't get a date," Toby said.

"Toby!" Paige said in a shocked tone, and even Walter seemed to realize why that was out of line.

Toby looked around at them. "Oh, come on. Teenage boys? Confronted with a girl twice as smart and twice as angry as they are, and beautiful to boot? I'd be surprised if any of them had the courage to look her in the eye, much less ask her out."

"Well, that's the most flattering explanation I've ever had for being a social reject," Happy said.

"OK, Paige," Walter said, turning to her, "it's all up to you."

"Well," Paige said.

"You're kidding!"

"I could've gone," she said a little defensively. "I'd been going out with a guy for a few months. And he was a nice guy, there was nothing wrong with him. But he – I was – " She shook her head. "This sounds so snobby. But I was bored. We'd go to movies and he didn't want to talk about them afterward, we'd go to football games and he wasn't that involved. I don't know what he was interested in. He thought he'd major in business but couldn't say why, he picked the state college because it was closest to home and he wouldn't have to spend so much time traveling. Maybe some other girl could've brought out some life in him. He got married later on, and from what I heard they were happy. I guess we just weren't a good fit. And I didn't want to spend what was supposed to be this big exciting evening being bored, just so I could say I went to the prom. Not only would it be no fun for me, but kind of unfair to him. So I broke up with him, two or three weeks before, so he'd have time to find someone else to go with."

"And did he?" Happy asked.

"Oh, sure. Like I say, there was nothing wrong with him."

"But not you."

"Well, the guys I knew already had dates lined up."

"Great," Toby said. "Not a prom experience among us."

Cabe cleared his throat.

"Spoke too soon, Toby," Walter said.

"Jenny Carpenter," Cabe said with a reminiscent grin. "She had a wine-colored dress and I wore a wine-colored tie. I bought her a wrist corsage with little white orchids. She was beautiful. I'd just bought my first car a few months before. You know, we weren't nominated for anything, but the DJ played 'Always and Forever' and we were dancing – I felt like the king of, oh, the city. At least."

Paige smiled at Cabe, Walter studied him curiously, and Toby pointed at him.

"And that's it. That's the feeling we want to promise Giant Killer. It's what he thinks other people are taking from him, what he thinks he deserves. He'll come out of his bunker for it, I guarantee."

Cabe nodded. "All right. Let's do it. I'll have agents there as staff and guests."

"Happy, I'll be your date," Toby said.

"You – Why?"

"Because he needs to conquer something, he needs to take you away from someone. I'll know what behaviors will be sure to irritate the guy into action."

"Provided he shows up," Happy mumbled.

"Paige – " Was there a glint in Toby's eye? " – you'll be Walter's date."

"I don't see why we need dates," Walter said. "Isn't that the point, a prom for people who weren't – who aren't – prom types?"

"You need a date," Toby said flatly. "Sylvester going by himself is OK. He'll look like a nerdy guy hoping to get a girl to dance with him. He's perfect."

"Uh, thanks?" Sylvester said.

"If you're by yourself," Toby was still addressing Walter, "standing in a corner in your shirt and tie, not talking, watching everyone analytically, Giant Killer's going to think you're a fed. But if you're with Paige, you can play roles. She'll be a nice girl who wanted to go to a party and dance, and you'll be the stiff of a boyfriend she dragged along with her."

Happy gave a quickly muted snort of laughter. Cabe asked, "How do we start?"

Toby pointed at the screen. "His comment about the prom king. I'll – Happy – Vibe Isolator will say it gave her a great idea, a prom for people who weren't prom types in high school. I'll get other people involved in with the idea. Extend a special invitation to Jack Giant Killer, something non-threatening. Something along the lines of, I have to go with my significant other, but if you show up and find me, we can have a dance. A dance, at least. And something about an election for Prom King and Queen where there's a level playing field, it's not a contest just for people in the high-status clique. Something like that."

"Let him take the lead if he wants it," Cabe said.

Toby nodded. "I'm guessing he won't say a lot about it. But if I phrase it right, he'll come."

Happy said, "You want to engage with Jack Giant Killer under my user name, OK. But the moment you stop sounding like me, I'm taking over."

Toby grinned, wiggling his fingers like a master pianist warming up his hands. "Alluring but hostile. No problem."

.

The 911 call in central Ohio was brief. The male caller gasped out an address, then said, "He's got a gun." There was the sound of a gunshot, and the line went dead.

It was a good thing he'd given them the address; the system was doing something odd, and the call was untraceable. By the time the first of several police cars and a fire engine had rolled up, though, they knew that the address was the home of a member of the U.S. House of Representatives.

"Are we sure he's at home?" Officer Bob Church asked, putting away his cell phone and pounding on the door yet again. The home security alarm had been blaring inside the whole time they'd been here, non-stop whoops that were distracting even through walls and doors.

"He gave a speech in town tonight, so he should be," said the other officer standing on the front porch. "No answer inside?"

"I don't even hear ringing. Just clicks."

Another officer, standing nearby with a phone, disconnected the call and came over to Church. "Dispatch told the company to turn off the alarm. They said it is off."

"Great. So if it weren't for the phone call, we'd just be looking at an electronic screw-up. The neighbors didn't hear anything?"

Two of the surrounding officers shook their heads. Another said, "Next door they heard the alarm go off, but no gunshot. Everyone else was sleeping."

Two more officers rounded the corner of the house from the back, walking rapidly. "The back door's locked," one of them reported, "and no signs of disturbance that you can see from the windows. But there are two shoeprints on the back porch, tracking something red."

Church exhaled a puff of air. "So this is either a crime scene or the world's most elaborate hoax."

For a moment there was only the ear-grating sound of the alarm.

Then Church nodded, as if to himself. "Let's go in."


	2. Chapter 2

_ Lyrics from "The One That Got Away," written by Katy Perry, Lukasz Gottwald, and Max Martin, are copyrighted by Warner/Chappell Music, Inc._

_ I just remembered that I forgot to do a disclaimer for this story. But I couldn't find who holds the copyright to the TV show "Scorpion" - not on , not on the government copyright website, nowhere. Anyway, for sure I don't!_

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The officers drew their weapons. Church kicked the door violently and winced. "Guy takes his security seriously." He gestured at the fire truck. "Get a pry bar from them. And call Dispatch, tell 'em to get the alarm company to come down here and cut that thing mechanically."

The rending sound of the door frame cracking and crashing gave way to the deafening alarm, up close. Communication was hard even if someone was standing next to you. In teams of two, with flashlights and guns, the officers moved through the first floor and into the garage. Church paused by the home security keypad near the door, stabbing a couple of buttons on the premise that nothing he did could make the noise worse. He was right, but it didn't get better, either.

Once they knew that the first floor and garage were clear, Church led the way up the stairs and checked the first room on the right. Room by room, they cleared the second floor, up to a closed doorway at the end of the hall.

Church turned the knob and pushed. The door didn't move, barricaded from the inside. He pushed against the resistance.

A man's voice in the room bellowed. They couldn't hear what he was saying. Church yelled as loudly as he could, "Police! Open the door!"

He received an incomprehensible bellow in return. Between two whoops of the alarm he thought he heard a man yelling, "Gun! Go!"

"Congressman! Is that you? Who's in there?"

No response that he could hear. Church yelled again. "Police! We're coming in!"

He pushed against the door's barricade. Then there was a flat pop he heard even over the alarm, and he realized there was a hole in the door even before he felt the sting in his arm.

An officer had returned fire before Church yelled. "Stop! Back off! Hold fire!"

Another gunshot from inside the room, fortunately wild, going through the door into the ceiling and breaking a hallway light fixture. Church gestured violently with his good arm, the one holding the gun. The officers on the stairs held their positions, the ones in the hall retreated into what looked like a guest room across the hall from the barricaded room.

Church holstered his weapon and grabbed his phone again. "I think he's in there, the Congressman," he yelled to the other officers. "He thinks we're a threat. Get a bullhorn, see if that helps."

One of the officers went down the stairs. Church tried calling the house's phone number, assuming that, if the Congressman was barricaded in his bedroom, he at least had a phone in there. But again there was no ringing, just the odd clicks.

Church said a one-syllable word, putting the phone away. The officer next to him pointed at his arm. The lights in the room were out, but the officers' flashlights caught the shine of blood on Church's upper arm.

Church nodded. "If it gets too bad, I'll – " he yelled, and pointed downstairs, where the Fire Department EMTs were waiting. "Try a note under the door!"

He didn't have much hope for it, even as he watched the officer write and pull out an identifying card. He had the feeling that every piece of furniture in the room was piled up against the door, and a piece of paper wouldn't be seen. Try to get access to the second-story window? If it was the Congressman, he'd be relieved to see a uniformed officer. Unless the Congressman himself had gone berserk, which needed to be considered. Or if the Congressman and his wife were being held hostage, an officer popping up at the window might get shot.

He called Dispatch again. They needed the home security guy to get here now and cut the damn alarm. If they couldn't establish communication, someone was going to get killed.

.

"Obviously the Congressman's home security system was hacked," Walter said to Cabe.

"And his phone. He hadn't made a call saying there was a man with a gun at his house. But he had received a call, just after the alarm started going off, from a man saying, 'Nice piano you have in here, Congressman.' Of course he immediately barricaded himself and his wife in the bedroom."

"And his wife's a trophy blonde, I bet," Toby said.

"I don't know about 'trophy,' but she's a nice-looking woman."

"It's lucky no one was killed," Sylvester said.

"It answers the question about how easily Giant Killer can move around the country," Walter said. "The best way to hack a home security system is to get pretty up close and personal with it."

"Not to mention leaving bloody footprints on the back porch," Sylvester said. "What was it, ketchup?"

"Mixed with some dirt, yes," Cabe said. "What I don't understand is, if he could get there and hack the security system, why not just walk in and attack the Congressman himself?"

He was looking at Toby, and Toby shrugged. "Best guess? Attacking his enemy physically doesn't show how brilliant and clever he is. Attacking your enemy physically shows you're a thug. Getting the police and an elected official to shoot at each other, that's brilliant and clever. Not to mention the satisfaction that he must've felt at posting the footage from the bedroom security camera online the next day. Did you see that?"

"Yeah," Cabe replied. "The guy thinks someone's broken into his house and is trying to get into the bedroom, he's shoving furniture and screaming and shooting, and the hacker puts a caption he thinks is funny on the whole thing. 'Golden Boy keeps a cool head in times of crisis. Thank God they're in charge of the country's security.'"

"Every time he does something like that," Walter said, "he gives us another lead."

"I'll get started on the data from the phone hack tomorrow," Sylvester said, "after the prom."

"I'm glad you got back from Ohio in time for it," Walter said, looking around the big rented hotel ballroom where they were standing.

"Wouldn't have missed it," Cabe said with a slight smile, also looking around.

A professional DJ, oblivious to the party's real purpose, was setting up at one of the room. At the other end, near the door, a photographer was setting up a trellised arch covered with shiny silver streamers and black fabric roses in front of a light gray backdrop. A deliveryman rolled a dolly loaded with beer through a door near the bar – because, prom or not, it was after all a party for adults. People in white shirts and black slacks were hanging balloons and streamers, painting signs and taping them to the walls. The three that were finished read:

TESLA-TURING HIGH SCHOOL

CLASS OF ANY DAMN YEAR

.

GO TESLA-TURING!

FIRST IN SCIENCE FAIRS

FIRST IN DEBATE

NO BUDGET FOR FOOTBALL

.

IT'S A PROM IF WE SAY IT IS!

.

Cabe lowered his voice. "Our agents make pretty good signs."

"I came up with the name of the specious school," Sylvester said with pride.

"I came up with, 'It's a Prom If We Say It Is,'" Toby added.

Cabe pointed to another wall, where a man and woman in white shirts and black slacks were hanging a white screen. "What's that?"

"As guests arrive," Walter replied, "the photographer will take their pictures and whatever name they give him. Those will be downloaded and played in a slide show on that screen, along with a sign that says, 'Vote Here for King and Queen!' There'll be pieces of paper to write on and a ballot box underneath. I wanted to register the votes on a tablet, but Paige said it could get stolen."

"What keeps someone from voting for themselves a hundred times?" Cabe asked.

Walter looked a little amused. "Nothing. We don't actually care who the prom king and queen are, you know."

"Giant Killer cares."

"Yes, he does," Toby said. "He's asked Vibe Isolator some real specific questions about the king and queen election process."

"He hasn't registered on the Meet-Up page yet, though." It was more a statement from Cabe than a question.

"No, but about fifty people have," Sylvester said happily. "Some of the people on nlox thought it was the dumbest idea they'd ever heard, but some of them thought it was great and mentioned it on other websites."

"And some people in Oregon are going to have their own Tesla-Turing prom," Walter said with an eye-roll.

"Actually, Giant Killer might have registered," Toby put in. "This morning a guy named David Shepherd signed up, coming by himself."

"You think he's Giant Killer?"

"David the shepherd?"

Cabe nodded. "Who killed Goliath the giant. Good catch, Toby. If he turns up we'll keep a special eye on him."

"And of course on anyone who's looking for Vibe Isolator," Walter added.

Cabe gave a quick glance around. "Where is Happy, by the way? And Paige?"

"Shopping for prom dresses, of course," Toby said, and all four men chuckled.

.

Happy, however, looked a thousand miles away from chuckling as she yanked a pink, fluffy party dress out from a clothing store rack. "There. Party time. Whee."

Paige had already bought a dress. She was carrying the hanger over her shoulder, and rolled her shoulder as if her arm were very tired. "It's not you."

"You keep saying that." Happy put the dress back. "None of this is me."

"Well, let's try another store."

"No. I mean – " Happy shook her head and abruptly turned to another rack.

Paige waited for a moment, moved a step closer. "You mean?"

Happy stared at the dresses, sliding them. She seemed to have difficulty speaking. "The whole. 'Look at me, I'm so pretty.' Thing."

"You are pretty."

"Whatever. I just don't like. The whole thing."

Paige watched her for a moment, then lowered her voice. "Are you afraid?"

"No!" It was fast and sharp. Then she took a breath. "I just, I'd rather be taken seriously. Call me crazy."

Paige thought for a moment. "It's OK to want both, you know. To be taken seriously and to be desirable."

"Whatever."

"Everyone wants to be desirable sometimes." Paige kept her voice soft and gentle. "Even really serious people. I mean – even Walter. Do you think he doesn't daydream sometimes about a beautiful girl who wants nothing more than to fall in bed with him, just because he's who he is?"

Happy made a funny grimace, a combination of laughter and a wince. "Great. Now I need brain bleach."

"The funny thing is – " Paige sounded as if she were choosing her words carefully so as not to unnerve Happy – "women, some women, think that being desirable makes them very vulnerable. And men think that a woman being desirable makes her powerful."

"Except for guys like Giant Killer, who think it makes her a trophy."

"True."

"I just – " Happy dropped her hands, not even pretending to look at the dresses. "I never wanted to kowtow to that kind of thinking, you know? 'Look at the pretty surface! Who cares what I'm really like?'"

"Yeah." Paige nodded thoughtfully. "But – a guy who does know you, knows what you're all about, your goods and bads, and likes you anyway – he's not going to forget who you are, just because you dress up pretty."

Happy shot her a suspicious look. "Who are we talking about?"

"Giant Killer," Paige said innocently. She looked around to be sure there was no one nearby, lowered her voice further, and continued. "The whole operation doesn't depend on you looking pretty. The whole operation depends on you being you. He's going to be looking for Vibe Isolator. If you dress and act like Barbie, he'll never find you. If you act like yourself, but hide in a corner, it'll be hard for him to find you. You need to be you, but a – sensational version of you."

"Well." Happy shifted on her feet. "There was a dress over there, when I saw it I thought, 'If I was an attention whore, that's what I'd wear.'"

Paige's eyes twinkled. "Let's go look at it."

.

It should have been obvious. Techno music was thumping out of the open doors of the ballroom, where the dim lights made the slide show on the inside wall even more obvious, and there was a pretty woman of about thirty, wearing black and spectacles, sitting at a registration table under a black banner with silver-glitter letters reading "Tesla-Turing High School Prom." Still, the rotund guy with hair falling into his eyes asked, "Is this, um, is this the – "

"This is the Tesla-Turing High School Prom," she said warmly. "Sign in here and have your picture taken over there." She gestured to the photographer and the backdrop, just inside the door.

The guy looked at the registration sheet. Several single women had signed in, two couples, and a lone guy named Stan. Some gave last names and some didn't, but all had given email addresses.

Then he shot an apprehensive look at the photographer's setup. "Do we have to? Do the picture-taking thing?"

She leaned forward a little and lowered her voice. "We'd really appreciate it. The pictures and names are put up there on a slide show, kind of a get-acquainted ice-breaker thing, and we're trying to get as many people involved as possible. You know, if it were a real high school everyone would know each other already, and we thought this would be more fun than nametags. Besides, if your picture's up there, people can vote for you for Prom King."

The guy snorted, brushing back his hair, which promptly fell over his forehead again. "Yeah, that'll happen."

He signed in as simply "Jack," with a Yahoo! email address.

"We're glad to have you here, Jack," the woman said with a smile. She took a 3-by-5 card from the top of a stack under the table, wrote "Jack" under some words printed on one end, and handed it to him. "First drink's free."

The card was light gray and blank, except for a few words printed on the end she held. He took it from her and read the caption:

TESLA-TURING HIGH SCHOOL PROM

Yes, This Is a Drink Ticket

We're All Adults Here

He grinned. "Well, OK. Maybe after a drink I'll get my picture taken."

"I think people should always have a drink before they get their picture taken," she said, and laughed. She looked around him at a couple walking up to the table. "Hi, are you looking for the prom?"

Jack took his card into the ballroom. The two couples were dancing, and three of the women were talking to each other while keeping an eye on the room. A heavy nerdy-looking guy in a sweater vest was talking apologetically to a brunette who looked as if she were brushing a spilled drink off of her dress.

The bartender was a lean middle-aged guy wearing a black shirt, open at the throat, and a silver-gray vest. "What can I get for you?"

"Got a beer?"

"Regular or light?"

"God, regular." The bartender gave a narrow smile, opened a beer and poured it into a black plastic cup. They exchanged the cup and card, and the bartender dropped the card into a shallow metal cash box sitting open on a shelf beneath the bar.

Jack took a drink of beer, surveying the room. "Thought I'd come here to overcome past traumas," he said with irony. "But I'm startin' to get real bad flashbacks."

"You know who else feels like that?" the bartender said.

"Probably everybody."

The bartender pointed to a pretty dark-haired young woman who was trying to make conversation with the DJ. "When I said, 'Have a good time,' she said, 'You're probably the only man who'll talk to me tonight.' Might be worth a try."

Jack looked at her, took a deep drink of beer, said "Thanks," and headed toward the young woman.

The bartender looked around the room, picked up the cash box, and took it into the room behind the bar, closing the door behind him.

A young man wearing latex gloves was sitting at a table covered with plastic on which a stack of small evidence bags was sitting. Except for that, the room was a normal if small preparation kitchen with a couple of counters, a refrigerator, a sink, a microwave and some cupboards.

The bartender emptied three cards out of the metal box onto the table, and the man at the table separated them and made some notes. As he did that, Toby, who was cutting lemons into slices on a cutting board, looked around. "You look sharp, Cabe. If law enforcement ever goes to hell, you can fall back on bartending."

Cabe looked unamused. "Where are the girls?" he asked, in the tone of one asking something for the tenth time.

"I just got off the phone with Paige," said Walter, who was sitting in a chair by the counter. "They're parking the car now."

"We need to get Happy out there. A guy calling himself Jack just registered."

Walter looked interested. "Already?"

Toby looked less so. "But no David."

"Not yet, anyway. I sent Jack over to talk to Agent Jacobs. If he asks her whether she's Vibe Isolator, we might be able to wrap up the whole thing right now. But I think our guy's cagier than that, and I want the real woman out there in case he wants to pick up a conversation they started online."

"Three minutes," Walter said. "Maybe less. How's Sylvester doing?"

"Pretty well. Trying to mingle and make conversation. He just spilled a drink on a girl, though."

Toby chuckled. "The upside is, no one would ever take him for a government agent."

"I've got to get back to collecting fingerprints," Cabe said, his hand on the doorknob. "Get Happy out there stat."

He left, and Toby said, "'Stat'? Now he's a doctor bartender?"

Walter's mouth quirked. "You look pretty sharp yourself, Toby."

Toby was resplendent, if over the top, in an elegant tuxedo with a red carnation on the lapel. Walter was dressed exactly as he always was.

Toby grinned. "Jack Giant Killer is going to hate me. If he ever gets the chance to see – Well, finally!"

Paige was coming in from another door that led to a side hallway. "Sorry," she said a little breathlessly. "Happy stopped off in the restroom. She's really nervous, so don't snap at her, Walter."

"I," Walter said, then, "OK."

"Since Walter is verbally challenged at the moment, I'll just say you look stunning, Paige," Toby said.

She was wearing a brilliant blue, sleeveless dress that fitted her closely down to the knees, then flared. She giggled and gave a quick turn, the skirt flaring out as she did. Besides evening makeup that accented her eyes and lips more than the minimal makeup she normally wore, she had a light dusting of glitter in her hair.

"Thank you, Toby," she said. "But just wait till you see Happy. I like the tuxedo."

"Do I look successful and obnoxious?"

"Well, successful, anyway. Obnoxious will have to come with your behavior."

"I'll do my best," Toby said, and Happy walked in.

"Wow," said the gloved agent at the table, as if the syllable had been startled out of him.

Happy was wearing a one-shouldered black dress whose one long left sleeve circled her wrist with crystals. A slit gave a glimpse of her left arm from elbow to shoulder, and a slit on the right side of the skirt revealed a daring amount of thigh when she walked. A black crystal bracelet accented her bare right wrist. She was wearing strappy black heels, and her makeup was exotic.

"Sorry we were late," she said, not meeting anyone's gaze. "It took longer than I thought it would to finish building my purse."

"'Building' your purse?" Walter asked.

She held it up. It was essentially an enclosed tube of shiny metal. It looked like small holes had been punched in the ends, rivets decorated the sides, and it hung from her shoulder with a small chain. "Jack Giant Killer knows Vibe Isolator is into mechanics and engineering, so I thought I'd make a clue to help him find me."

"Thought," Toby said. "That's a good thought. That's a great, you look great. I got a, man, I hate to do this."

There were two small florist's boxes beside the plastic drink glasses and liquor bottles on one counter. Toby seized one of them and produced from within a garish corsage of large red carnations and red ribbon.

"Do you – Is it – " he began, then stepped forward to pin the corsage on Happy's dress.

She looked down at the red splatter and said, as if she were trying to be tactful, "That's – a little – "

"God-awful," Toby said. "That's the point. I have no taste, I have no brains, I don't deserve you. Hopefully that's what he decides, although, fail. I mean, every guy there is gonna wish I'd drop dead. Well. We'll figure it out, figure him out. We've got to – Cabe wants us there. OK?" He opened the door.

"We'll follow you in a few minutes," Walter said. "And remember, you're not Toby and Happy, you're Troy and Hope. And Sylvester is Stan. Just in case Giant Killer has any interest in Scorpion, I don't want the group of us using our real names."

"William and Piper, right?" Happy said, pointing at them, and Walter nodded.

"Like we can't think, er, memorize," Toby said. "OK, we're off, I mean, you ready?"

Happy nodded and went through the door, which banged against Toby's heel as he left.

"Now who's verbally challenged?" Walter asked in a dry tone, and Paige laughed. She looked over at the agent who was whisking fingerprint powder onto the "Jack" card, and said, "It doesn't seem fair that you have to stay back here and not go to the party."

The agent grinned. "I'm a tech guy. I'd rather be back here than out there anyway."

"Me too, but Paige'll like it," Walter said bluntly. "Oh, I got a thing too."

He picked up the seconds florist's box and thrust it at Paige. She looked him in the eye, with a bit of a smile, and he opened the box, pulling out the contents more gently.

"Oh," Paige breathed. Walter was holding a wrist corsage with tiny white orchids.

"I stole the idea from Cabe," Walter said.

"Well, you steal from the best." She extended her wrist.

After a moment's hesitation, he closed the corsage around her arm as if afraid that either it or she would break.

"It's exquisite, Walter. Thank you."

"Well, we're supposed to be a couple. I wanted to make it look good."

Cabe came in from the ballroom door and dumped several cards from the metal box onto the table. "They're starting to come in fast," he said. "Another Jack came in, although he's with a date. And a guy by himself named David just signed in."

"Sounds like it's almost time for me to do my ice-breaker thing," Paige said.

"Shadow the new Jack for a while first," Cabe said. "I put Sylvester on the first Jack, and I know Toby wants to shadow David. I'll point the second Jack out to you when you register and come to the bar. Date or no, we'll see if he's trying to find Vibe Isolator. Look like you're approachable, Paige."

"And an engineer," Paige said. "I'll do my best." She offered her arm to Walter. "Let's go get our picture taken."

Walter took her arm, and they left by the hallway door as Cabe disappeared back into the ballroom.

A while later, Sylvester, holding a soda, approached the first Jack, who was now standing by a wall looking at the slide show over the king-and-queen ballot box.

"Did you vote yet?" Sylvester asked.

"No." Jack took a sip of his own drink. "I think I'll let other people make that decision."

"But if everyone does that, there won't be any ballots."

Jack grinned a little sourly. "Oh, that'd be a tragedy, wouldn't it?"

Sylvester took a breath. "Do you think that the wrong people get elected to things?"

"You mean in politics? Sure, sometimes."

And that seemed to be as much as Jack could be provoked. You could practically see the wheels turning in Sylvester's head as Jack took a drink of his second beer. As if to help him out, Happy's and Toby's picture came up on the slide show, with the caption, "Hope and Troy." She was standing to his right and he had his arm around her, grabbing her just above the elbow. He had a broad grin on his face, and she looked a little suffocated.

Sylvester glanced at Jack, who was looking at the picture. He cleared his throat. "Any – any girls you think would make the best queen?"

"Well, she's hot," Jack said, indicating the slide show. "But her date looks like a dweeb."

"Well, you know, if you want to meet her, I mean, if you're looking for someone, you could vote for her for queen and yourself for king."

Jack looked at Sylvester with disapproval as the picture on the wall changed. "Dude, she came with someone else," he said, and walked off.

"God, that's embarrassing," said a woman standing on Sylvester's other side.

He turned and said defensively, "I was just making conversation."

"What?"

"Oh – sorry – thought you were – What's embarrassing?"

The woman gestured at the screen, where her own picture was showing; the name "Louise" showed underneath. She was somewhat heavy, and the camera of course was no help to her there. But her face was pretty, her blonde hair curly and shining, and her dress flattering. The main problem was her pose. Her shoulders were a little drawn up and her head pulled back on her neck, as if she were trying to withdraw from the camera. Her smile was tense, and her gaze was somewhere to one side.

"Constipated woman goes to old folks' prom," she said bluntly.

Sylvester looked at the photo, then back to her. "No, it just kinda looks like you froze a little. Why don't you have another one taken? It wouldn't be any problem for them to change it."

"I wouldn't want to crack the camera lens."

Sylvester looked at her for a moment, looked away, looked back and said with real sadness in his voice, "Why would you say something like that about yourself?"

Louise thought for a moment and tried a smile. It transformed her face. "You're right. If I'm going to the trouble to come here, I should at least try to have a good time."

"That's the spirit. Anyway, if you want to see an embarrassing picture, wait till mine comes up. I don't like getting my picture taken either, and I did the opposite of freezing, I exploded."

"Oh, no, yours is great! You're Stan, right?"

Sylvester blanked for a moment, then said, "Yeah. Yes. You saw my picture?"

"Sure. It's great."

"People were laughing at it a while ago."

"But that was what you wanted, wasn't it? It's such a great pose. Like you're saying, 'Let's party!'"

Sylvester grinned. "Yeah, that was – Well, good. Anyway. So, how did you hear about the prom?"

"A friend of mine saw about it on nlox and said we should both come. She said, 'It's a prom for nerds,' and I said, 'But I'm not a nerd' and she said, 'That's OK, nerds are very forgiving."

Sylvester laughed, and just then his photo came up on the screen. The photographer had loved his pose so much that she'd backed up to get a full-length photo; "Stan" stood with his foot kicked out to the side and both arms in the air, with a huge smile on his face. Sure enough, some people who were nearby laughed heartily enough to be heard, and one of them said, pointing at the screen, "There he is!" Over by the ballot box, Toby looked like he'd heard someone chuckle and looked up at the picture himself.

A quick series of drumbeats announced Katy Perry's "The One that Got Away," and two people near Sylvester hit the dance floor. He said to Louise, "So you think, like they say, you know, they're laughing with me?"

"No question," she said. She tapped her foot. "I love this song."

A look of panic crossed Sylvester's face. He looked away, cleared his throat, looked back at Louise. "I don't – I'm not a very good dancer."

"Me either. But I love it. Anyway – " She giggled and indicated the dance floor with a nod. "I don't think we're the only ones."

It was true that many of the heads bobbing and hands punching the air were not quite synchronized with the heavy drumbeats. Even a newcomer could have guessed that this was not a group of Music Department alumni.

"Yeah," Sylvester said. "Well, um, you want to, you know, try?"

"Sure," Louise said, and they headed for the dance floor.

Happy tapped Toby's shoulder and he jumped a little, turning from the ballot box. "That's the fourth time you've voted," she said.

"What are you, the prom police?" Then he murmured in her ear, "David is twelve feet to your right, looking at the slide show. I want to keep tabs on him. And I want to leave you alone enough so that if someone wants to ask you abut Vibe Isolator, he'll be able to."

"I see. Well, why not go get us a couple of drinks, then?"

"Good idea." Obviously and patronizingly, he patted her on the head and said loudly, "Clever little woman I've got here. You just wait for me, honey."

He headed across the room to the bar as Happy looked long-suffering.

"The song's going to be ending in a couple of minutes," Paige said to Walter over the sound of the music. She turned her face to say in a low tone, "Our Jack is over there, dancing. When I do the ice-breaker thing, we can be standing right next to him."

"We can do that by just walking over there, too," Walter said, speaking quietly but stubbornly. "We don't have to dance."

"What's the problem? We've danced before."

"You danced. I spent two full minutes trying to figure out where to put my hands and how not to crush your feet. And at least that was real dancing. This – " He looked at the jumping, swaying group – "this looks like the way I danced with my mother when I was two."

"So pretend you're two," Paige said. She took his wrist and pulled him onto the dance floor, to the obvious amusement of a nearby couple.

_In another life, I would be your girl_

_We'd keep all our promises, be us against the world_

Paige got her hips and shoulders moving, her arms graceful in the air, flaunting the corsage, smiling delightedly. Walter stood still for a moment, bobbing his head, looking self-consciously at the other dancers. He raised up on his toes and dropped down again, raising and dropping his shoulders, then jerked his head from side to side.

Paige laughed, jumped and spun, her skirt flaring and swishing. Walter tried a jump too, tried it again. He threw one arm clumsily into the air with an amused grimace. As Paige laughed again, he began throwing his arms around, keeping time pretty well, but with the general effect of a marionette whose controller was having unexpected spasms.

Somehow, in this process, they drew closer to the second Jack and his date. Paige turned away from Walter long enough to catch the DJ's eye and beckon him. Then she turned back and took one of Walter's flailing hands in one of her own. He seized her other hand and they stood moving their joined hands side to side in the air through the last few bars of the song.

"Ladies and gentlemen." The DJ's amplified voice rolled over the crowd, and most people looked over at him.

Walter and Paige were face to face, lowering their joined hands slowly. Her look of delight faded to a look that blended anticipation with curiosity. He looked into her eyes as she panted a little, her face flushed from dancing.


	3. Chapter 3

_Lyrics from "Amazed," written by Marv Green, Aimee Mayo, and Chris Lindsey, are copyrighted by Warner/Chappell Music, Inc. Lyrics from "Raise Your Glass," written by Alecia B. Moore, Max Martin and Johan Schuster, are copyrighted by Sony/ATV Music Publishing, LLC. Lyrics from "Always and Forever," written by Rodney Lynn Temperton, are copyrighted by Universal Music Publishing Group._

.

Then Walter dropped one of her hands, looked over at their Jack, looked away and around, apparently anywhere but at Paige's face.

But he kept hold of her other hand.

" – been to a lot of dances." Apparently the DJ had been talking as he descended from his platform and crossed the room, carrying a wireless microphone. "But this one – and I mean this – is unique."

There were cheers as he reached Walter and Paige. "And now, to present another unique feature of the party, the lovely Piper."

"Woo-woo!" Apparently some guy in the corner had had three or four beers.

Walter barely let go of Paige's hand in time for her to take the microphone. "Thank you. Well, it struck us that if this were a real school, we'd mostly know each other. We don't have time for the 'Tell us a little about yourself' thing, but we came up with one question that we thought would let you say what you're all about, and also might be good for a conversation starter with people you don't know. And I'm going to begin with – " She looked around as if scanning the crowd – "the lovely William. Who's your favorite fictional character?" She popped the microphone up in front of him.

He looked flash-frozen. Then he blurted, "I don't read fiction."

"It doesn't have to be written. It could be a movie, TV show, cartoon – just your favorite character who doesn't actually exist."

"My favorite – um." He seemed disconcerted by the sound of his own amplified voice. "You know, this would be a lot easier if I'd known it was coming. Piper."

Some people laughed. She did, too, and said over the mike, "No one else knew it was coming either, so it wouldn't have been fair for me to give you advance warning, would it?"

"Maybe not, but – "

Walter's face suddenly went blank. Then he looked at Paige with some actual surprise in his expression. "The Emperor's New Clothes."

"Your favorite – "

"The kid in the fairy tale. When I was, I don't know, two or three, I thought he was brave. To shout that out in front of the crowd. I could already tell that most people wanted to be like everyone else, do the same things as everyone else. I loved that the kid yelled 'The Emperor has no clothes!' in front of everyone. And changed things, changed the crowd. I used to make my mom read that to me every night, just so I could yell out the kid's one line." He looked at her wonderingly. "I just now remembered that."

"That's a wonderful story. Thank you." She looked as if it were hard to do, but she turned from him. "OK, let's – "

"Wait a minute." Walter took the mike from her. "If I had to answer that, you do too."

There was laughter as Paige took the mike back. "That's easy. House."

"A house?"

"Not a house – " As people heard her say it, there was more laughing. "Dr. Gregory House, of the TV show. He's brilliant, but – difficult, angry and cranky. You could always be sure of two things with that character: He'd never be dull, and his actions would be right. If you listen to what he says, you'd think he doesn't – "

There was a little break in her voice, and she turned from Walter abruptly. "You think he doesn't care, but what he does is the important thing. Hi! What's your name?"

"Jack."

"Hi, Jack. Favorite fictional character?"

"I don't know. Maybe Sherlock Holmes? He's cool."

"Benedict Cumberbatch or Robert Downey Jr. or – "

"Any of 'em. Really, I like the written stories best."

"The book was better," Paige said with a nod, moving to the second Jack's date. "What's your name and favorite fictional character?"

"Karen. I like House, too."

"There you go, another House fan! How about you?"

Working her way through the room, Paige collected a Legolas, a Daenerys, two Doctor Whos, and a James Bond, among others, as well as a few polite dismissals. The first Jack was one of the people who said, "No thanks" and waved her on, which put her in front of Louise.

"Louise. And Meg, from 'A Wrinkle in Time.' She's not a genius like her father or brother, but she still understands how to defeat the worst evil in the universe."

"I loved that book too. Great choice. What's your name?"

"Stan. Um, can it be from a comic book?"

"Sure. Any character that doesn't actually exist."

"Well," Sylvester said nervously, "this is going to sound stupid, but I was always a big fan of Super Fun Guy."

A couple of people cheered. The tension dropped off of Sylvester's face and he waved in the direction of the cheers with a huge grin. "All right, Super Fun Guy fans!"

Paige laughed, moving on. "Name and fave fictional character?"

"David Shepherd," said the skinny, somewhat short guy with a sardonic smile. "And the President of the United States."

"You mean – "

"Any President. By the time they get into office they're so full of lies, so crusted over with the bullshit they wade in to get elected, they might as well be fictional."

A few yards away, Toby made a little choked sound and looked at the floor to hide his grin.

"Our guy." It wasn't so much a question as a statement from Happy.

"If he's not I'll eat my hat. And you know I love that hat."

"OK, well, that's an interesting take on things," Paige said, moving along. "What's your name and – "

"That might've been for Vibe Isolator's benefit. Really sell him on your choice," Toby mumbled to Happy, and she gave an almost imperceptible nod.

A few more dismissals and several interesting choices followed, including Hermione Granger, Dean Winchester, Olivia Benson, and Cthulhu ("All hail!" yelled the beery guy in the corner). When Paige reached Toby he grabbed the microphone from her and said, "Troy. I've got a great one. J.R. Ewing."

"And why him?" Paige asked.

"Why not? He's rich, he runs a huge company, and he gets any woman he wants. That's your fantasy come to life. How about you, babe?" He stuck in the microphone in front of Happy's face. "Oh, her name's Hope."

"Howard Roark," Happy said.

"Who's that?" asked "Troy."

David gave a scornful snicker loud enough for Toby and Happy to hear. "The hero of 'The Fountainhead,'" explained "Hope." "He's a brilliant architect, and he won't kowtow to other people who screw around with his work, even if they are higher status."

Paige retrieved the mike from Toby. "It'd be interesting to sit in on a meeting with J.R. Ewing and Howard Roark," she said, and moved along to laughter.

A while later music was playing again, dancers were dancing, there was a discussion by the bar as to which Doctor Who was the best, and Sylvester and a couple who'd come over after the icebreaker were explaining the delights of Super Fun Guy to Louise. Happy found Toby at the ballot box once again.

"I realize you're trying to make me available for David to talk to," she murmured, "but if you hang all over me when the spotlight's on us and ignore me other times, it's going to look weird."

"Good point. Wanna make out?"

She gave him a look, and he gave her an impish grin. Then he put his face close to hers as if he were whispering sweet nothings to her, and asked, "So who's your real favorite fictional character?"

"Probably Athena."

"The virgin goddess of war. Very a propos."

"Wisdom too, don't forget. The goddess of wisdom."

Lonestar's "Amazed" began playing, and Happy sighed a little. "Shall we dance?" Toby asked, and she nodded.

She surveyed the room as they moved onto the floor, her bare arm near Toby's shoulder, his hand so light on her hip it almost seemed to tremble. David was talking to Agent Jacobs. Cabe, who had exchanged a nod with Toby after the ice-breaker, was subtly keeping an eye on David between pouring drinks. Paige was dancing and talking with the second Jack, which meant that Karen was being steered around the dance floor, determinedly if inexpertly, by Walter.

"Who's your real favorite character?" Happy asked.

"I have a lot of 'em," Toby said. "Depends on what's going on. Sometimes Melanie Wilkes."

Happy didn't remember for a moment. When she did she stopped dead, and another couple almost ran into them. "From 'Gone With the Wind'? Are you kidding?"

Toby grinned. "Not what you expected?"

He urged her to start dancing again, and she did, although she kept staring at him. "She doesn't spend a lot of time talking about leading a virtuous life," Toby said, "she just leads a virtuous life. She doesn't spend time talking about how much she loves other people, she just makes them a priority. There's no defensive cover over her, no sarcastic bull. And when the shit hits the fan, she steps up and copes, without expecting a parade in her honor. She's one of the most mentally healthy characters in literature."

Happy absorbed that for a moment. "Well, when you put it that way."

_I want to spend the rest of my life_

_With you by my side_

_Forever and ever_

"I just got the signal from Paige," Toby said. "We need to get over near David for the next ice-breaker."

They moved over slowly, and as they went Toby began, "I didn't," then stopped.

Then he started again. "I didn't actually miss my prom because I got kicked out of high school."

"I figured. What did happen?"

"There was – I was really young, you know. And a misfit."

"Tell me about it."

"I was pissed off most of the time. There were a couple of jocks, one guy named Wade, who gave me grief non-stop, and I did my best to give it back to them. For one thing, I managed to start a rumor that Wade was gay."

Happy chuckled.

"Yeah, that's what I thought. Funny way to annoy a jerk, no big deal. I didn't realize until later that for Wade and his family and the guys he hung out with, it was a big deal. I guess they were treating him like he was – a criminal, or something, and of course the louder he denied it the more suspicious he sounded. Finally he got into a brawl with a couple of other guys, they all got suspended, which meant none of 'em was allowed to attend prom. And he was up for prom king."

They were drawing closer to David, and Toby lowered his voice even more. "So. I won. The jerk who bugged me got beat up and suspended and couldn't be prom king. And when I heard it I felt no triumph at all. I went home and shut the door and seriously tried to figure out why I didn't feel like celebrating. And I had what I consider to be one of my first mature thoughts."

"Which was?"

"It wasn't fair. I started the damn rumor. Of course I didn't force him to get in a fight, but I started the whole thing, and I'm still in school and can go to the prom, and I don't care about the stupid dance. And a guy who would've really enjoyed it, it really would have been a source of joy to him, couldn't go. It was asymmetrical retribution."

As the song ended, there were a few moments of silence while Paige talked to the DJ and then stepped up onto his platform.

"So did you tell someone it was partly your fault?" Happy asked.

"Hell, no. I said I had one mature thought, not that I grew up. But I stayed home from the prom, out of guilt. Which means I also screwed over my date, 'cause if she was willing to go to the prom with me it shows you she didn't have a lot of other options. But I told her I had a cold and stayed home and read the Journal of Personality and Social Psychology."

"Ladies and gentlemen, and whoever else," Paige said over the DJ's microphone, and all eyes turned to her. "Let's get a little bit better acquainted."

There were a few groans, and she held up a hand. "No, this one is easy, I promise! And quick! Two minutes!"

The crowd quieted down. "I just want you to turn to the nearest person you don't know and spend two minutes talking with them. No fair talking to the person you came with. The closest person you haven't talked to yet." She glanced at her corsage as if it were a wristwatch. "And – go!"

With a little smile, Toby turned to David, but David had already stepped in front of Happy. "So, Howard Roark, huh?" he said.

Happy shrugged. "He's a great character."

"Are you an architect yourself?"

"No. But I'm interested in engineering, so it's related."

David smiled broadly. "Glad to hear you say that."

Happy gave him a moment to pursue that, then said, "How about you?"

"IT consultant. I have my own business."

"Independent," Happy said, nodding. "That's the way to go."

"She's always saying that," Toby said, crowding so close to them that he literally put his foot between them on the floor. "And I keep telling her, she wouldn't have any problem in a big company. She's a smart cookie. Not like some of these bozos who couldn't get promoted if they paid someone off."

David looked at him with contempt. "So you think that promotions are awarded for merit?"

"Sure. I mean, yeah, there's politics, but that's partly how you earn the promotion. Guys who can't play the game shouldn't be in charge."

For a moment such rage flashed in David's eyes that Toby's hand moved reflexively, just a little, in front of Happy. Then David smiled. "'Play the game.' Yeah, if you can't make a good intellectual argument, it's always handy to fall back on sports metaphors."

Toby met his gaze, and opened his mouth.

Then he closed it, stepped back, and turned to Happy. "I think it's about time to count the ballots, sugar."

"Already?" she asked.

"Sure. No point in having a king and queen of the prom if the prom ends two minutes later. And I think we're gonna have a great queen." He winked at her. "Come with me, double-check my math."

"You're running for prom king and you're counting the ballots?" The rage was gone from David; he only seemed amused.

"A bunch of us got the idea for the whole prom and put it together. Who do you think should count the ballots?" Toby chortled. "I know, Howard Roark. He'd be completely fair." He took Happy's arm. "Come on, I'll buy you a drink while we count."

Happy gently but firmly pulled her arm away. "I'm fine here. And you're totally capable of counting the ballots by yourself."

Toby's gaze flickered to David and back to Happy. "OK. But don't go anywhere, babe. Can't have a coronation without a queen."

He leaned over to kiss her, and she turned her head so that he kissed her cheek. Then he headed toward the ballot box, glancing back at them once as he went.

David smiled at Happy and, after a moment, she smiled back.

"Everyone," the DJ announced, "keep talking if you feel like talking, and shake it if you feel like shakin' it!"

Pink's "Raise a Glass" started up.

"Actually, that would be pretty funny," David said. "Big announcement time, pomp and circumstance, presenting the king and queen! And then, oops, the queen has better things to do. Shake things up a little."

"I admit, the whole 'king and queen' thing isn't my favorite part of the prom idea."

"He said a 'bunch' of you organized the prom," David said. "Why do I get the feeling it's you more than anyone else?"

"Well. I didn't make all the arrangements by myself."

"But you came up with the original idea. Didn't you?"

She smiled as if anticipating something mischievous. "Well, yes."

"Are you Vibe Isolator?"

Her smile broadened. "Yes. Are you Jack Giant Killer?"

"I am."

She leaned forward a little, as if sharing a secret. "You did find me!"

"You knew I would."

"I hoped you would."

"So." David moved a little closer, lowering his voice. "Since I figured you out, will you give me an honest answer to a question?"

"That's fair."

"Is it really that you don't like the king-and-queen idea? Or are you just not looking forward to the king?"

"Well – We don't know who the king will be."

He gave her a look. "With good ol' Troy 'counting' the ballots, and dead set on having you as queen, I think we both know who the king will be."

She raised her eyebrows, looking wry. "Yeah."

"So? You want to change that?'

"How?"

He glanced around, looked back at her. "I really wanted to do this on my own, but your friend pulled the trigger so fast I'm going to need some help to get it done before he skips back in here with his big announcement. Are you up for a little chicanery?"

She smiled. "This party could use some chicanery."

"Plan A was to find you, get your name, and then stuff the ballot box. I always have a Plan B, of course. But I needed to find you for that too, because I figured you'd know who was counting the ballots."

"OK, we know that. Now what?"

David pulled something out of an inside pocket of his jacket, showed it to her, put it back. It was a very small clear vial. "Now we offer him a drink while he's doing the hard work of counting."

Happy couldn't stop the shocked expression that leaped across her face, but she modified it fast. "You – Well. I don't want anyone to get hurt."

"He won't get hurt. He'll just be very, very relaxed."

"Roofies?"

David nodded.

Happy tried to look tempted. "I thought you wanted a level playing field."

"It is level. Anyone could do this. We're the ones actually doing it. We win. Not everyone could count the ballots, so he's a bigger cheater than we are."

"Well, that's true."

"And he was the one who said a guy has to play the game, right?"

Happy giggled. "Yeah, I guess he really can't complain. I always had the feeling you were a little bit of a devil."

"Yeah. Little bit. Later on, I have things to tell you."

"About?"

He looked coy. "Some accomplishments. Kind of a hobby of mine."

"Sounds interesting."

"So where is he counting – or pretending to count the ballots?"

She pointed at the door near the bar, across the room. "There's a room behind the bar."

"Where the drinks are. How handy."

She gave him a quick smile, and they started across the room.

_So raise your glass if you are wrong in all the right ways_

_All my underdogs, we will never be never be_

_Anything but loud and nitty-gritty_

Happy slipped behind the bar, where Cabe was pouring a Diet Coke for the Dean Winchester fan, and said, "Hey, Bob. How about one of those for Troy while he counts the ballots in there?"

"Sure thing," and Cabe poured one out. David pulled the vial from his pocket so subtly that he probably thought Cabe didn't notice it.

With the cup in hand, Happy turned her back to Cabe and faced David so that Cabe couldn't see David pouring the drug into the drink. "Well, so, I'm glad you've been having a good time," she said.

He smiled, re-pocketing the vial. "Great time. This was a great idea."

She smiled back, turned, and slipped into the room.

A moment later, looking concerned, she stuck her head out the door and beckoned to him.

He followed her in, closing the door, looking around the room quickly. Except that the plastic was gone form the tabletop, it looked exactly as before: refrigerator humming, a couple of lemons by the cutting board, cups and bottles lined up on the counter. But there was no ballot box or Troy to be seen.

David looked confused. "Did he – "

There was a blurt of sound as the ballroom door opened. Before David could look around, but not before there was a flash of suspicion in his eye, Cabe stepped in, badge on belt and gun in hand. "David Shepherd, you're under – "

David seized Happy and swung her violently, and Cabe swore as she slammed into his gun hand. Cabe pointed the gun at the floor, then raised it again as David grabbed Happy's hair, yanked her backward a step, grabbed the knife from the cutting board and rammed it against Happy's neck so fast that he cut her and she gasped.

"All right," Cabe said, "let's just cool it down for a moment."

"Put down the gun. I mean it. I know right where to put this so she bleeds out in seconds."

"Think about it. That would just make things worse for you."

"You too. You'd be the incompetent who let a hostage get killed. Try explaining that to your bosses. Put the gun down, damn it!"

"All right," Cabe said calmly. He put his gun on the table. "But think about this for a moment. You haven't been responsible for any deaths. You haven't done anything that can't be fixed. Any charges against you are going to be minimal. But if – "

"What are you saying?" David was yelling right by Happy's ear. "Are you saying I'm not important? Poor stupid jerk, can't even do any damage? Then why the gun? Why arrest me? If I'm so damn ineffective?"

"That's not what I'm saying." Cabe changed tactics smoothly. "Ineffective? You had our best people chasing their tails trying to track you down in cyberspace. There's a lot you could teach us."

"No kidding." David pulled Happy a step back, keeping the knife at her neck. "Open the door."

Happy began opening the door to the hallway, and Cabe said calmly, "There are agents in that hall and agents in the ballroom. We weren't going to take the chance of letting an important perpetrator like you get free. So keep – "

"Shut up! Back off!" The first was yelled to Cabe, the other to the people outside the hallway door. There were probably a lot of people out there; the only ones immediately visible were Agent Jacobs, her gun drawn, and Walter.

"He's not kidding, you know." His hands raised, Walter took a step into the room, and David looked between him and Cabe like a cornered rat. "I'm the head of the team that the government hired to try to track you down. You made it – very difficult. It was impressive. I'd like to talk to you about some of your coding. It was ingenious."

"You think you're just flattering a sucker, but my work is ingenious."

"I'm not flattering you. I only state facts."

"OK, I believe you. You with the gun, drop it."

Agent Jacobs looked over David's shoulder to Cabe, received a slight nod, slowly put the gun on the ground and stood.

"The supposed bloody footprints on the Congressman's back porch were a convincing real-world touch," Walter said. "Was there anything like that with your other hacks that we missed?"

"You want to know a nice real-world touch? This whole damn prom. The whole thing was just a sham, just a set-up, right?"

Mostly behind David, Cabe took one step closer. "Well, we had to do something," Walter said. "Frankly, I think I could've found you eventually through your hacks. I wanted to keep working at it, but – "

Happy tried to take a sideways step and David clutched her violently, pulling her even closer and cutting her neck with the knife again. "Stop it! Stay there! You're probably not even the real Vibe Isolator, are you?"

"I am."

"Even better. You let me think we're friends and then stab me in the back? Think that's funny?"

"I'm sorry!" As best she could, Happy raised her hands, her purse shaking slightly as she clutched its clasp. "I know I shouldn't have, I'm really – "

Her right hand flashed to her purse and slapped one end as she turned her head. There was a blasting hiss from the purse's other end and Cabe gave a sharp cry that was covered by David's bellow of pain. He raised his free hand to his eyes, Happy tore herself away, and Agent Jacobs and Walter lunged forward. Walter grabbed David's flailing knife arm as David yelled, his eyes closed and reddened. Agent Jacobs brought David down and by that time Cabe, his cheek and part of one ear reddened, had grabbed his gun from the tabletop and stood over David as Agent Jacobs knelt on his back and Walter pulled the knife away.

"David Shepherd," Cabe said, "you are under arrest on the federal charge of computer intrusion. You have the right – "

"Help me! God, you people are morons! That's not even my real name!"

"That's OK, we can amend it later." And to one of the agents and Scorpion members now crowding the room, "Get some water in one of those cups and pour it over his eyes. It'll help a little. You have the right to remain silent. If you – "

"Your purse is a pepper spray gun?" Walter said to Happy as Cabe continued Mirandizing.

She shrugged a little, pressing her hand to the oozing wounds on her neck. "It's a purse too. I just wanted something in case things went hinky. Things go hinky a lot in these Homeland cases."

Cabe stepped back as other agents held the now-handcuffed David and poured water over his eyes. "I'd have appreciated knowing about that," he told Happy, stepping around Paige to get to the sink.

"Sorry I got you. I kept trying to change the angle, but he either didn't move or moved the wrong way. How bad is it?"

"It hurts. But none in the eyes." Cabe ran water over a paper towel and touched his face with it gingerly. "Why was the knife still in here, damn it?"

"We were talking about that in the hall," Sylvester said. "Apparently we all thought someone else took it out."

"He's a hacker!" Happy said. "Who thought he'd turn into Jack the Ripper?"

Toby followed Cabe from the sink with another wet paper towel. "Let me take a look at that," he said to Happy, moving her hand away from the cuts on her neck.

"It's no big deal."

"I'm the doctor, I'll say if it's a big deal." He cleaned the blood from her neck deftly. "All right. Well, it could be worse."

"I'm fine, really." Happy took the paper towel and applied pressure to one spot on her neck. "Cabe's hurt worse than I am."

"Yes," Cabe said wryly, "but my ear isn't as pretty as your neck."

"I think you have a lovely ear, Cabe," Toby said promptly.

"OK. Let's get this guy booked and get him some treatment," and as Cabe said it, two agents pulled the cursing David to his feet.

"I'll go make the announcement," Walter said.

"Wait. What announcement?"

"Well – the prom's off. There's no need for it now."

"Your guests don't know that." Cabe shot a quick look at the faces of the other Scorpion members. "You keep up the cover, let the prom finish. The rest of the night will just be legal anyway, we won't need you. And I've made some arrangements."

"What arrangements?" Walter asked suspiciously.

"Well, for one thing, I invited a friend of mine who used to tend bar part-time. He's covering the bar now, and he'll stay till the dance ends. For another thing, I made some arrangements with the DJ about the king and queen. You just count the ballots and tell him who got elected. He'll take it from there."

"Thank you, Cabe," Paige said, as the Homeland agents left with David. "It's very thoughtful of you."

Cabe's face remained perfectly straight. "Well, I knew Walter would be disappointed if the dance ended early. I'll talk to you all tomorrow."

Toby smacked his hands together as Cabe closed the door. "All right. I stashed the ballot box in an empty meeting room when I told Happy I was going to count the ballots. I'll go do that now. The rest of you, go out and mingle."

"All right," Sylvester said immediately, leaving through the ballroom door.

"Why don't I count the ballots, Toby?" Walter asked.

Toby shot a glance at Paige as he said, "Well, better idea. Why don't you and Paige go tell the DJ to get ready for whatever he and Cabe set up? There aren't that many ballots, I'll be out soon."

"That's a good idea," Paige said. "Maybe he needs help. Let's go, Walter."

He followed her back out into the ballroom, where "Moves Like Jagger" was now playing, and said, "I doubt that the DJ needs help."

"I doubt it too, but Toby obviously has something up his sleeve, and I have faith that it's something good. Anyway, he's the main reason that we got Giant Killer. I think he deserves to do – whatever it is."

Walter glanced back over his shoulder. Happy had re-entered the dance alone and was talking to Cabe's bartender friend as he mixed her a drink. "Toby had a lot to do with it. But the whole prom was your idea."

Paige stopped and looked around at the people dancing and talking. "I'm so happy," she said quietly. "Not just that it worked and we got Giant Killer, but that people came and had a good time. It's being so much fun."

Walter looked at her as she surveyed the scene. A bit of a smile crept onto his face.

Two songs later, Toby was standing at the base of the DJ's platform. The DJ himself was clearing a space on a table for a large box he'd previously had on the floor. As the song ended, the DJ manned his microphone. "Ladies and gentlemen, the people have spoken. Please give me your attention for the crowning of the Prom King and Queen!"

He made a big deal of flourishing, then reading from, a piece of paper. "The Tesla-Turing Prom King is – Stan! Come on up here, Your Majesty!"

Sylvester's mouth gaped, and he stood completely still. It took a moment for Louise and a couple of others, laughing, to push him toward the DJ's platform. Even as he stood beside the DJ he looked stunned, although he was beginning to smile.

"And the Tesla-Turing Prom Queen is – lovely Louise!"

Now it was Louise's turn to look stunned, but she moved toward the DJ's platform and up the two steps on her own power.

"I have here your crowns," the DJ said, opening the box and pulling out two shiny silver paper crowns. "We haven't got any space up here for courtiers, so you're going to have to crown yourselves." And as they put the crowns on, "Your Majesty, you have the giggles."

Louise glanced up. "I keep looking for the bucket of blood."

The crowd laughed. The DJ said, "You're thinking of a different place, ma'am. Nothing like that allowed at Tesla-Turing." He pulled a brilliant multi-colored bouquet, wrapped in shiny silver paper and tied with a black ribbon, out of the box and handed it to Sylvester. "Would you present that to her ladyship?"

With a smile so wide it didn't seem possible, Sylvester did so. The DJ pulled a silver scepter topped with a black orb from the box and handed it to Louise. "Please present this to His Majesty. And be careful, 'cause it bends real easy."

Giggling, she gave it to Sylvester, and he waved it slowly over the heads of the crowd, looking as majestic as it was possible to look while grinning and wearing a paper crown too small for one's head. The crowd laughed and cheered.

"Please clear the floor for the King and Queen to dance," the DJ said, and everyone moved back a few steps. Sylvester put down his scepter and stepped down. The DJ took Louise's flowers and, as Sylvester helped her down to the floor, began playing "Always and Forever."

Smiling at each other, Sylvester and Louise began to dance. By the DJ's platform, Toby chuckled as he recognized the song and shook his head. "Cabe," he mumbled.

Suddenly Happy was at his elbow. "OK, now I understand why you voted so many times."

"Not that many." Toby was watching the dance. "'Vester won Prom King legitimately."

"Good." She shot a sideways look at him. "And this is going to be a source of real joy to him."

"And he deserves it more than Wade would've," Toby said. "But I do have a confession."

"Louise didn't win Prom Queen legitimately."

"Well, no. I'm hoping the real winner would understand."

"Who was it? Paige?"

Toby rolled his eyes. "No. You."

First she looked astonished, then she stifled a whoop of laughter with her hand. Then she looked at Toby. "I do understand."

"I was really torn. You and Sylvester would've made the perfect nerd king and queen."

She looked at Sylvester and Louise, who were smiling at each other like lottery winners. "No. This is perfect."

Sylvester looked around and beckoned with a wide gesture of his arm. "Everyone dance!"

"Shall we?" Happy asked, and Toby led her to the dance floor happily.

_Every day_

_Love me your own special way_

_Melt all my heart away_

_With a smile_

Walter cleared his throat. "Uh, may I have this dance?"

Paige looked at him with surprise. "Absolutely!"

They moved out onto the floor. Walter clasped Paige lightly, moving with a little freedom, looking somewhere else other than his feet. Across the floor, Toby and Happy were dancing close to Sylvester and Louise. Toby flicked Sylvester's crown and it slid over his eyes. Louise laughed and straightened it, and Walter's mouth quirked.

"Keep hold of my hand," Paige said, and pulled a little away from Walter, raising his hand with hers. She twirled under his arm, her skirt flaring and a little glitter flying off her hair, and he caught her again, pulling her back toward him gently.

"You're getting good at this," she said.

"Combination of movement with rhythm and awareness of what other people are doing, that's all," he said. "The ability to learn new skills is a sign of intelligence."

"Is that it?" Paige looked up at him. "Because when I'm moving well and tuned in to other people, it's usually a sign that I'm happy."

"Well," Walter said. "Possibly. It could be a sign of that too."

.

.

THE END


End file.
